


Fetish - Fuuto

by CynicalDaydream



Series: Domino Effect [2]
Category: Brothers Conflict
Genre: Because Vamire!Fuuto is sexy, Biting, F/M, Nipple Play, Pseudo-Incest, breast fetish, handjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:27:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24092062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CynicalDaydream/pseuds/CynicalDaydream
Summary: Who knew Fuuto-kun had a fetish...?
Relationships: Asahina Fuuto/Reader
Series: Domino Effect [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1730305
Comments: 5
Kudos: 67





	Fetish - Fuuto

**Author's Note:**

> Just FYI, I made some changes to the end of the first story. Nothing major, but it is brought up in this story, so you don’t get confused.
> 
> TL;DR in our last adventure, Fuuto accosts “you” at the elevator and demands to know where those teethmarks came from...

You’re not quite sure how you ended up here, roaming the unfamiliar hallways of a television studio. You have finals coming up and a lot of studying to do, but the twins (and by "twins" you mean "Tsubaki") had insisted you stop by the studio and watch the live interview they’re to record along with Fuuto-kun, to promote a new video game and anime series. Both twins had been chosen to voice the main characters and Fuuto was chosen to sing the main themes in both game and anime. All three of them being related seems to be big news in the media—two popular voice actors and a pop star—so the producers and agents had decided that the three of them together would go a long way in raising excitement among their many fans.

Only now, it seems, Fuuto has disappeared.

And judging by the irritated yet resigned expressions on the face of his agent, this seems to be a normal occurrence.

As a promotional stunt, because the series features vampires, all three brothers had been shoved into sleek black suits and crimson-lined black capes, complete with very realistic prosthetic fangs. And, you have to admit, they all make pretty gorgeous vampires. The fans will _definitely_ love it.

Assuming anyone can find Fuuto, that is. He’d vanished right after changing and now everyone is on the hunt. You’ve also been recruited to search, which you wouldn’t mind so much except that—due to Tsubaki’s mischievous nature and his ability to sweet talk just about _anyone_ —you’ve somehow ended up in a costume, too.

Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad, because dressing like a vampire would’ve been cool. But Sakura-san, the costume director, hadn’t dressed you like a vampire. She’d dressed you as a vampire’s _bride_. The long, tattered, filmy gown you’d been shoved into is far more reminiscent of a Victorian nightgown. The kind of dress you can picture some haunted damsel wearing as she runs barefoot through an abandoned castle under a full moon, wailing her despair to the world.

Or maybe walking, in your case. Running in this getup, with it’s long, flowing skirts and very tight laced corset bodice, is a trip to the hospital waiting to happen. If you didn’t pass out from suffocation, you’d probably end up tripping and breaking a bone. At the very least, you could end up with a truly embarrassing wardrobe malfunction. Given how the tight corset pushes your breasts up until they can barely be contained within the confines of the loose, off-shoulder bodice, you’re afraid to do so much as hop on the off-chance that you might accidentally flash someone.

No _wonder_ the twins had practically salivated over your wardrobe change.

At least Sakura-san had let you keep your own shoes.

But you’d been looking for awhile and are feeling a little winded, so you stop to take a rest against the wall of a relatively deserted hallway. You’re not even sure where you are anymore, but you’re pretty sure you’re not supposed to be there. Ah, well. If anyone asks, you can just tell them you were looking for the bathroom and got turned around.

Movement from your peripheral vision catches your attention and you turn your head in time to see Fuuto walking slowly down the empty hallway. You straighten abruptly to follow. "Fuuto-kun!" you call. If he hears you, he ignores you. With an irritated huff, you take off after him, gathering skirts so you don’t trip. You’re forced to slow down, however, when the hall becomes crowded with an unusual amount of _stuff_. Large backdrops lean against the wall on one side and wooden crates—some empty, some full—are stacked against the other, narrowing the passage between them. You carefully inch past, trying not to catch your skirt or one of the long, flowing sleeves on a stray nail or splinter, and have just made it to the area where the hall widens again when a hand appears out of nowhere to snatch your wrist and you yelp as you find yourself being bodily hauled into an empty room.

A door slams behind you, blocking light, the loud click of a lock, and then two arms slip around your waist from behind. "Are you looking for me, Née-san?" a low voice purrs into your ear. "How brazen, following me all by yourself..."

You squeal and automatically spin in his arms, shoving him away ... and watch, horrified, as he stumbles backward with a yelp, trips on his long cape, and lands on his back on the cold, tiled floor with a pained grunt.

"F-Fuuto-kun!" You scramble to his side and fall to your knees. "I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to push you that hard! A-are you okay?"

He doesn’t respond. He’s too still, laying in a tangle of black silk and you fear the worst as you gently slip a hand under his head, trying to feel for any damage. There’s no noticeable bump and you breathe a relieved sigh. He stirs, eyelids fluttering, and murmurs. You lean closer, trying to hear. His lips curl into a sly smile. "I said, if you keep pushing your chest against me like that, I’ll get aroused," he purrs and lifts his head from your hand to press soft lips to yours.

You recoil with a huff and shove him down again. He laughs and groans at the same time, hand lifting to his head as he sits up. "Owww... Nee-san, you’re so violent..."

You shove down the stirrings of guilt. "It’s your own fault, scaring me like that," you grumble, crossing your arms. His gaze instantly snaps to your _very_ exposed cleavage and you hastily uncross them again. "A-anyway, what are you doing here? Everyone’s been looking for you." You stand and brush off the dress, look around to realize you’re in an empty office. One that hasn’t been used in quite some time, judging by the random boxes of clutter piled on every available surface. You suspect you’d stumbled into a storage area.

"There’s plenty of time before they need us," Fuuto grumps, pushing aside a box of fake potted plants to seat himself on a desk. "What did you think just now? Has my acting gotten better?"

You scowl at him. "You scared me! I really thought you’d hit your head!"

He looks inexplicably pleased with that answer. He pulls a packet of papers from his back pocket and unrolls it. It looks like a script. "I told you before I want to act. Not just commercials, real movies. I’ve got an audition for a film in two days so I’m trying to practice lines every chance I get. But my agent keeps filling my schedule too full. On top of that, I have to study for finals, too. I’m still a student, after all."

"In that case, I’m sorry for interrupting your studying," you reply. "It’s wonderful that you’ve got an audition, though! Your big sister will cheer you on."

He smirks and pushes the script back into his pocket, and that’s when you both notice the large rip right at the seam of his shoulder. "Aww, you damaged it," he complains, lifting his arm to tug at the sleeve. The tear widens to reveal a long strip of pale skin.

"I-I’m so sorry! Can it be fixed before the interview?"

He grunts and waves you off before unfastening the cape, removing the sleek black waistcoat he wears over the shirt, then finally the shirt itself.

You feel your cheeks turn red as you hastily glance away. His pale, lithely muscled torso is far more developed than you would have expected. Then again, you reason, he _is_ a pop star. He probably has to work out to stay toned for all of that dancing he does on the stage.

He notices your discomfort as he slips the vest back on, not bothering to button it up. "There’s something I’ve been wondering for awhile now," he muses. He reaches out and snags you by the top of your corset by slipping one finger into it. You suck in a breath as he tugs you closer. "The other night, at the elevator. Who gave it to you?"

Your blush explodes over your face. "Th-that’s—I don’t—"

"It was right ... _here_ , wasn’t it?" He presses a finger into the top of your breast. "The kissmark. Was it from one of our brothers? But it’s faded now." His lips pull into a sexy pout. "Were there more of them, hidden under there?" The finger slips beneath the dress’s low neckline, plunges under the corset and brushes over your nipple. You jump at the touch, instantly pebbling. Ever since that night, your nipples have been ridiculously sensitive to the slightest touch.

"No bra? How bold," he teases, smirking.

"I-it’s because of the costume," you stutter, backing up until you hit the edge of another desk. Sakura-san had insisted you take it off since bra straps would ruin the effect of the wide, off-shoulder neckline.

He hums, eyes lidded and glowing with a sharp, hungry gleam. "Make it up to me," he murmurs, stalking toward you. "For pushing me down and ripping my shirt, make it up to me. Let me touch them."

Your eyes widen as he traces his hand delicately over your cleavage. A ticklish warmth that causes a deep flush of arousal to spread across your chest and up your neck, heart rate kicking into high gear. "D-don’t..." you protest weakly. Only half meaning it.

"It’s okay though, isn’t it?" he purrs. "You already let someone play with them. Was it Tsubaki? Or maybe Azusa. We all know they’ve been lusting after you for ages."

You refuse to answer as he continues to caress the swells of your breasts. "Oh? You aren’t going to protest anymore?" A slow, sensual smile. "Then, I’ll play with them as much as I want." His shockingly warm hand slips fully under the tight bodice and cups your breast, lifting it free of its constraints. "Your nipple is already so hard," he murmurs, stroking it softly as it swells even tighter under his fingers. "It must be really sensitive to arouse with just this much stimulation. Do you like being touched there that much?"

"I-it’s because I’m cold," you protest, your voice coming out far more breathless and shaky than you’d intended.

"Well, I guess then we should warm it," he murmurs with an evil grin as he leans in. His breath causes an eruption of gooseflesh that quickly morphs into a hot flush as he deliberately runs his tongue over your throbbing peak—sending a whole new flurry of tingling sensation over your chest. "If you were my woman," he growls, "I wouldn’t let it fade. I’d keep marking you over and over so everyone knows you’re mine." He presses his hot, open mouth to the top of your breast ... and then bites down.

You squeal in shock as fangs catch sharply on tender flesh, not quite hard enough to pierce as he sucks at your skin, fingers rolling your wet nipple roughly. When he leans back, a bruise is already darkening the pale flesh. And two red fang marks dot your skin. "Hmmm. That’s really sexy," he hums. "Now everyone can see you let someone suck your breast. I wonder what our brothers will say when they see it. Think they’ll get jealous? Maybe I should give you a matching one on the other side, hm?”

You flush darkly, embarrassed and angry. Then, in a sudden move, you grab him by the vest, haul him toward you, plant your mouth on his flat nipple and suck _hard_.

"Ah!" he gasps in shock, his back arching. To your surprise you feel it pebble against your tongue, going hard with sudden arousal. You suck again and he moans low in his throat. "N-Née-san ... what’re you ... _doing_...?" he pants.

You come to your senses and release his nipple with a wet smack, shocked at your own audacity. Fuuto just stands there with parted lips and a dazed expression on his face. Chest heaving as he pants. He gazes down at you with glazed eyes and you’re just starting to wonder if maybe you’ve _broken_ him when his gaze snaps back into focus, sharp and hungry. Without a word, he grabs your hand and hauls you behind him as he starts for the door.

"F-Fuuto-kun, wait! M-my clothes—I’m still...!"

He pauses, turns back to snatch his discarded outfit off the floor, hastily throws the cape haphazardly around your shoulders then grips your wrist and pulls you from the room, down the hall. You’re forced to run to keep up with him, gathering handfuls of skirt so you don’t trip. Startled exclamations greet you from the handful of people you rush past, but nobody stops you until you reach a familiar hallway and an equally familiar door. Fuuto’s and the twins’ dressing room.

He hauls you both inside, slams the door after you and the click of a lock sends a shiver of foreboding up your spine. Both of the twins have already left, leaving you alone with him. He turns to face you, eyes shadowed by his bangs. He stalks toward you and you back away until you stumble over a chair, drop into it with a gasp. "F-Fuuto-ku—"

"Again," he demands, leaning over you. "Do it again."

When you just stare at him blankly, he huffs, shrugs out of his waistcoat and presses his chest almost in your face. "Suck it again," he elaborates. “My nipple...”

You gape up at him, stunned. Isn’t _this_ a switch? You don’t particularly like being ordered around, but you _do_ like the needy, almost wild look in his eyes that makes slow, liquid heat pool in your belly and between your legs. So you lean forward, watch carefully as you press your lips to his aroused nipple in a soft kiss. You nuzzle at it until Fuuto’s eyes glaze over again and his lips fall open to breathe an unsteady sigh. You part your lips and press your tongue against him. His cheeks flush, heartbeat going erratic under your touch. You can feel it pounding against your tongue and lips and it’s _thrilling_.

" _H-harder_ ," he demands.

Recalling what Hikaru had done to you, you clamp your teeth down on Fuuto’s nipple hard enough to pinch, roll your tongue over its tip and then seal your lips around it to suck until your cheeks concave.

"Née- _s_ _an_!" he howls, and his hips buck violently. And you can _see_ something swelling and hardening between his legs, pushing tight against his pants and realize that his nipples are no longer the _only_ things that are aroused. How ... _fascinating_. Who knew he would be so _sensitive_? It seems you aren’t the only one who gets off on having their nipples sucked.

Encouraged by his reaction, you continue to administer to him as he pants and groans with wanton pleasure. After a few minutes you switch sides, trying to recall everything Hikaru had done. Too bad you’d been too mindless with desire at the time to pay attention to the subtle technicalities...

All the same, you must be doing _something_ right, if Fuuto’s reaction is anything to go by. He straddles you in the chair (which really isn’t that comfortable in such a confined space) and his hips continue to buck with each hard pull of your lips and the way his erection pushes against your belly is titillating and animalistic. Not to mention the way he keeps moaning your name in a growled husk that makes your insides clench. You’ve never heard him call you in _that_ tone before. He hardly ever calls you by name at all! His voice no longer sounds snide and self-assured, just low and sensuous and pleading.

In a sudden movement, he wraps his arms around your waist and hauls you up against his sweaty body, pulls you back with him until he finds the old couch against the wall and pulls you down on top of it, straddling him. He frees your other breast and rolls and pinches your nipples between his fingers as you continue to suckle his, and it isn’t long before you find yourself subtly shifting up just a _little more_ until his erection probes insistently against your crotch. Panting with growing lust, you spread your thighs a little wider and grind desperately against him, trying to increase the pressure, relieve the hot, needy ache between your legs.

The old you would probably be horrified at such erotic, carnal behavior. The new you is too busy trying to get yourself off to care.

You suck harder and viscously pinch his other nipple with your free hand. You’re rewarded with another low howl and a hard thrust against your core that makes you moan in delight.

He’s close to the edge; you can _feel_ it and you wonder if you can make him come just by sucking his nipples. You wonder if you can make _yourself_ come that way...

But abruptly the world tilts and spins and you gasp in shock to suddenly find yourself flat on your back as Fuuto’s hard weight settles against you. His face is desperate as he stares into your eyes, flushed and sweaty and nearly unhinged. " _My_ turn," he almost snarls as he dives in and seals his hot mouth over your breast. You squeal and jerk underneath him, back arching into his harsh sucking. There’s nothing at all tender about it; pure, raw hunger and sexual need. He pulls your breast deep into his mouth and his teeth clamp down, one of his prosthetic fangs almost piercing your nipple. You screech in pain, retaliating with a cuff to his ear. "Don’t bite! That _hurt_!"

He grunts in annoyance but the painful pressure immediately eases into something far more gentle, his full, soft lips pressed delicately around your nipple, light and tender. The fangs rasp against your flesh as he suckles you, almost ticklish as stinging eases into titillating bliss and you push more firmly into his mouth in silent encouragement.

His hand slips down between your bodies and you feel the shift of fabric, his fingers fumbling between your legs. He grunts in frustration when he fails to find an opening in your skirt, settles for rubbing himself against you. Something feels different now and you realize he’s undone his pants and his naked cock probes hard between your legs, pushing against the barrier of your clothes. You worm a hand between you and wrap it around him. He freezes in shock for a moment before eagerly pumping himself into your tight grip. You squeeze and knead as he moves, marveling at how something can be soft and hard all at once. His thrusts are becoming more erratic. His hand snakes between you, slips between your legs to finger you through your clothes.

You’re both _so close_ now... Just a little more...

A loud, harsh pounding on the door destroys the moment, startles you both so badly that Fuuto tumbles right off the couch and lays, dazed and panting, on the floor. "Fuuto-kun! I know you’re on there," the voice of the producer calls through the door. "You’re supposed to be in the studio! The interview is starting in ten minutes!"

Fuuto growls and his fist smacks the floor, sexual frustration practically emanating from every pore. "Tell them to start it without me!" he yells back.

"Start with—! Now listen here, you cheeky brat! I don’t know what your problem is today but this is no time to throw a tantrum over it! You get your ass out to that room in ten minutes or so help me..." The threat morphs into the stomp of angry footsteps as the producer storms off, grumbling loudly about entitled princesses.

Fuuto flops onto his back and glares at the ceiling. "I should get his ass fired, talking to me like that," he complains. Sitting up, he reaches for you, mouth aiming for your closest breast. And because you’re a complete slut for the feel of a man’s lips on your nipple, you let him suck you for a few more moments before calmly reaching out to flick him hard in the center of his forehead.

He releases you with a wet pop and sits back, scowling. "What was that for?"

"Because you _are_ a cheeky brat!" you scold. "You have a job to do!"

He huffs and stands up. "Do you expect me to go out there like _this_?" He gestures at his erect penis. "The audience will love that!" He shoves his cock in your face, its tip almost touching your lips. "It’s your fault I’m this aroused," he purrs. "So help me out. Suck me off as I fuck your breasts until I cum. Or let me put it in and cum inside you."

You stare up at him for a few moments. Smirking, he pushes against you, his tip twitching against your lips. "Suck it. Make me cum," he demands hoarsely, his full arrogance back.

You instead jump to your feet, grip his arms and shove him down on the couch. He lands with a yelp and you roughly yank his pants and underwear further down his legs before grabbing a hand towel off the dressing table along with a bottle of lotion. You straddle his legs, pour lotion into your hands, grip his penis with both of them and start working him hard. He howls at your harsh handling as you coat him thoroughly, then drop the towel over his cock and pump him with it, recalling how wonderful the friction of rough terrycloth had felt against your own clit. As you work him, his hips start thrusting as choked whimpers and moans escape his throat. " _N-Née-san_ ," he whimpers. "S-so good... So close... Harder... _Harder_!"

You lean over him and latch your teeth around his nipple, biting _hard_. You shift your jaws back and forth, rolling it between them as you probe roughly with your tongue and he suddenly climaxes under you with a low, anguished wail of elation. His cock jerks in your hands, hips pistoning hard as his semen dampens the towel. Finally collapses into a boneless, sweaty heap, panting heavily as his hooded eyes gaze up at you with stunned wonderment.

You gently wipe him off with the towel and toss it into a wastebasket. "There. You should be able to interview now." You go to the sink to wash him off your hands. "Fuuto-kun, a lot of people have gone through trouble to set up this interview. The media exposure will help further your career, so not showing up is both unprofessional and damaging. You want to be taken as a serious actor, don’t you? That means taking your job seriously and going through with your commitments. Be a celebrity I can be proud to call brother."

He stares at you for a long moment before abruptly letting his head fall back to the couch as a soft laugh escapes. "Ah," he sighs, "I got scolded by Née-san. That’s so _sexy_..." A lascivious smirk touches his lips as he strokes himself. "Uh-oh. I’m getting aroused again..." he teases.

You huff and turn your back as he laughs and pulls his pants up. "Just get going. Your time is almost up!"

He uses another towel to wipe the drying sweat from his body, then slips into the waistcoat. He doesn’t button it up, letting it gape open to expose his chest. "I feel refreshed! Thanks for the erotic playtime, Née-san."

"W-wait! What about your shirt?" you squeak, taking in the deep red marks scattered across his chest from your hard kisses, how red and swollen his nipples still look against his pale skin. Your toothmarks clearly ring the one you’d rolled between your teeth to make him cum.

"My nipples are too sensitive right now. Letting anything rub them might arouse me again on camera." He smirks. "Besides, I _want_ them to know. I want all our brothers and everyone in the world to know I had you. I want them to see your kisses." You’re hardly prepared when he takes your mouth in a rough, sloppy kiss, tongue thrusting deep. When he releases you, his eyes rake across your body, takes in the sight of your breasts, deep bruises from his intense sucking and nipples still swollen and tender. He touches one of the fang marks ringing your nipple and his smile takes on a decidedly satisfied air. "I marked you," he murmurs. "Just like you marked me. I made you mine. These breasts belong to _me_ now..." He leans in to tenderly suckle one, massaging with his hand.

"I’ll touch and taste them whenever I want," he purrs into your breast. "If my marks fade, I’ll suck until new ones appear. All of the brothers will know you’re mine. And next time I cum, it’ll be inside your body. Prepare yourself."

Your legs give out as you weakly slide to the couch, more turned on by his threats than you care to think about. Of course, it doesn’t help that you _still_ haven’t climaxed so you boldly pull up your skirts and start fingering yourself under your soaked panties as he watches. He flashes a final, purely masculine smirk as he turns and leaves the dressing room, leaving you alone to finish, and also to wonder what the hell you’ve just gotten yourself into.

**Author's Note:**

> Remember, comments are an author’s nourishment...


End file.
